


Stolen Time

by orphan_account



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: Gallifrey, Gallifreyan Society, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2012-07-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:33:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of a Gallifreyan named Alastria, who would later be known as the Falconer. Not a Time Lady. A Gallifreyan, with only one life. Or, at least, she should have been. Technically, she is a Time Lady, as her life progresses. Lives, rather. But they are unnatural lives. Once, it was thought that she was born with the capacity to regenerate. However, that is far from the truth. The Time Lords took her into their care to study her, but they are very close to finding out what is really going on…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_It is a crime for me to be alive. I was of the lowest of Gallifreyans, of the people the Time Lords used as grunt workers to run their extravagant society. Gallifreyans are expendable. One life, and then poof! They’re gone. There are so many of them on Gallifrey. But only the upperclass ones become Time Lords. They all live near the capital, and there are very few of them, compared to Time Lords. I guess Rassilon didn’t want **too**  many Time Lords. Too much of a chance of someone being born that would usurp him, I suppose. At least the old despot is dead now. That’s one blessing. _

_But then again, I should be dead too. Four times over. I am the impossible; I am a Gallifreyan on her fifth life. These lives were stolen, and I had them without my own consent. They thought I was born with them, a miracle child from the rural Gallifreyan deserts, having acquired the most prized of Time Lord qualities by chance. That illusion sustained them for a while. But it was a matter of time before everything completely unraveled._

_This is my story. I am i_ _mpossible, a living felony of the highest degree._ _I am the Falconer._

—-

Alastria’s father always spoke of the Untempered Schism, and of Time Lords. She was very young, perhaps three at the most. All she knew about them was that they had to do with where her father went to work. Time Lords seemed like a mythical race of sorts. Immortal, near to gods. And her father always said he was lucky to work for them, and that they were the reason he and Alastria were able to eat food every night. Food was scarce in the desert, and many families who lived near them were not nearly as certain of their meals. It was certainly a lucky Gallifreyan, he who got to work for the Time Lords. 

Her father, Iamon, explained to Alastria that he helped the Time Lords live very long. Alastria always wondered why the Time Lords needed help to live so long, and if they could, why couldn’t Gallifreyans? But Iamon always shook his head, and said that he’d tell her when she was older. 

Alastria found herself excited lately, however. Iamon had promised her that he would bring her to work one day, to see how everything worked. He said that they would have to sneak there at night, although she didn’t understand why. Iamon told her that one could see all the machine’s lights best at night, and Alastria believed him, for she knew that he knew best. It still nagged at her, however, although she did not register it at such a young age. 

Tonight was the night. Alastria had slept a little in the evening, and Iamon had awoken her in the middle of the night, when it was darkest. He carried the three-year-old across the desert, taking his quietest steed, and an hour or so later, Alastria began to hear the thrumming and churning of what she would later learn was where the Time Lords kept an entrance to the Untempered Schism. Iamon avoided this, however, and took her down a passage relatively near it, the tunnel twisting and turning underground. The throbbing of the Schism could be heard throughout the tunnels, and Alastria buried her face in Iamon’s robes, trying to rid her head of it. Her father was used to it, and paid it nearly no mind by now. 

They came upon an enormous machine, and sure enough, the lights blinked like stars all over the room. Alastria gazed at it in wonder, distracted by all the colors and whirring sounds. Her father had grown tense, but she barely noticed, bombarded by so many other sensations. Suddenly, confusion overtook her as she found herself strapped into the machine, having not paid attention to where her father was going.

“Father - ” Alastria gasped, but her father put a finger to his lips. Alastria quieted, although she was frightened now. Being strapped into the machine didn’t hurt, but she wondered what he was doing. She was not a Time Lord. If he was trying to make her live forever, it would not work. She squirmed a bit, and let out an alarmed cry when her father went out of sight. There was a brilliant flash, and something far too strong for a three year old body coursed through her, knocking her out cold. 

—-

Iamon watched as the lights coursed around his daughter, half worried, half excited. He was terrified, too. He knew he should not be doing this, but this was his only chance at taking advantage of his position. The Time Lords did not consider that they should keep this machine locked at night; they thought him a simpleton, one only capable of operating the machine and pressing buttons. To them, Gallifreyans were merely workers. Not people, at least in the lower class.

But he had been planning this for so very long. He could not use the machine on himself, for the Time Lords would surely find out. He did not want to go on the run; this was an incredibly good situation to be in, compared to most of those who lived in the desert, and he did not want to jeopardize it. 

…the Time Lords had no idea he had a daughter, however. Alastria would remain unknown, faceless. And he could give that gift to her. Perhaps it would save her life one day. The desert was dangerous, and children often died. It was easier to survive as an adult, but children were easy prey to the creatures that lived out there. If Alastria encountered danger, even something fatal…she would regenerate. Unseen by anyone. Anyone important, at any rate. He had convinced himself that the villagers wouldn’t care. They were too concerned with their own survival to notice a strange light in the middle of the desert. The children of the village all formed a faceless mass to everyone else; no one would notice if one of those faces changed. 

Perhaps Alastria would escape one day. He wanted to free his daughter. This was a life _he_ could live, but not one he wanted her to live. 

Iamon watched as his daughter’s body writhed and twisted in the machine as lives coursed through her, integrating themselves into her very DNA. He knew it was painful, and that they both might have a sleepless night. But in the end, it would be worth it.

He was stealing from Rassilon himself, from right under his cold, dead nose.


	2. Chapter 2

A few years passed. Alastria believed that she never got to visit her father’s work after all. She had apparently had a nightmare about it, according to her father, but he had decided it was too dangerous to take her there. She swore that they had, but he told her that she had had a fever that night, and had hallucinated everything she told him about it. 

Since that day, however, Alastria had been given a surprising amount of freedom, much more than she had before. It was almost as if Iamon didn’t care what happened to her. Alastria wondered about it in the back of her mind, and almost wanted to believe that Iamon perhaps did not care as much as he used to. But he was still a loving father; he had merely decided to let Alastria roam as she pleased. So she took advantage of it. The desert was dangerous, but she was six years old and was sure that she could handle it.

—

With the addition of twelve extra lives for Alastria, Iamon had become much less cautious. He knew Alastria liked her freedom, so he let her have it. There was a part of him that he would never admit was there that viewed this as an experiment. Would the lives really work? How fatal was the desert, really? How long would it take for Alastria to regenerate? The thoughts always lurked at the back of his mind, although he never spoke of them. He behaved as he usually did with Alastria, save for eliminating all her boundaries. And every day his Alastria came back, safe and sound. He was almost tempted to put her in a situation where she _would_  regenerate, although he never acted upon the impulse.

He didn’t have time.

Alastria was alone in the desert again. She knew she would come back for dinner soon, but it wasn’t quite sundown. There were a few birds flying about the desert, which was rare. She ran and ran, following them. She set her sight on a brilliantly violet one, running as fast as she could after it, wanting to touch its tail. The sandy slopes turned into rocks, and the rocks turned into canyons and cliffs.

Then the cliffs transformed abruptly into air, and she was falling. 

Alastria didn’t even have time to register that she was falling before she hit the ground. She felt something snap, and blackness consumed her.

—

A villager came running to Iamon in the evening, looking terribly frightened. He spoke of a glowing mass of golden light in the canyon nearby, and that it had lit up the entire area, making rocks crumble and fire spread. The fire was out now, but no one the villager had talked to knew what it was. Iamon stiffened with alarm. He told the villager that he would investigate.

He ran off to the canyons, knowing exactly what had happened. He was furious with himself that he had missed it. Iamon vaguely registered that if she had indeed regenerated, he would have no idea what she looked like. But if he got to her soon enough, she would be wearing the same clothes. He ran for his life, and for her new one. He was so eager to see it…

—

Alastria awoke to a clear sky above her, surrounded by rubble. Her clothes were dusty, and her entire body tingled, still buzzing with what she would later realize was regeneration energy. Her body convulsed, and she saw golden dust stream out of her mouth, dissolving into the atmosphere. She curled around herself, terribly scared and confused. She was not in pain, but she did not know how she was alive. Her hands were glowing too, just a bit. The glow was fading, but it was definitely present.

She blinked. Her hands looked odd. They were different. They were _not her hands._ Alastria gasped and scrabbled backward, her body feeling awkward and foreign. She reached a hand up to her hair and let out a terrified cry. Instead of curly, it was very straight now, and fell about her face instead of being tied back. She picked up a lock of it, and saw that it was tawny gold, rather than black. 

Her father came upon Alastria before she could recover completely, and she looked up at him in confusion, terrified. He reached for her, picking her up, his face awestruck. He didn’t say a single word, and he only held her up, looking at her. Finally, he spoke.

“Oh, my beautiful daughter. How you’ve changed.” 

His voice was a breathless whisper, and it made Alastria shiver. She squirmed in his grasp, feeling lightheaded, wanting to lie down. Her body convulsed again, and another stream of golden energy was released into the air. Iamon flinched away from it, setting her down. His eyes were not on her anymore; they were on something behind her. Alastria scrabbled into a nook between some rocks, shivering, trying to collect herself. She saw two regal-looking men in flowing robes facing her father, and realized they were talking about _her._

Alastria shrank further backward away from the men, who were approaching her. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she heard the occasional word through her terrified haze.

“…miracle child…born with this?…unnatural…scientific gain from this…unheard of…”

Alastria tried to hide herself. She was so confused, so frightened, and the strange men wouldn’t leave…

—

Iamon had no choice. These two Time Lords had found his daughter, and he did not know how. He did not know that Time Lords could detect a regeneration from so far off. The Time Lords demanded that Alastria be put into their care, for it she was a natural Time Lord, as they believed, they wished to study her. They said that no one had ever been born with the power to regenerate, and that Time Lords certainly did not bestow such a gift on someone Alastria’s age. 

Iamon could not bring himself to tell them the truth. It would be the ruin of his village, of himself, of Alastria. They were already threatening to cut off supplies from his village if he did not comply with their orders. He could not make it worse.

…so he let them carry his daughter off. He watched them shoot her with a sedative so she could be transported without disturbance, and still he watched as they carried her away into a TARDIS. The Time Lords said that he would be allowed to visit, but they did not tell him when.

Iamon held on to that hope, and he did not stop watching. 

“Oh, my daughter…it was not supposed to be like this. I did not intend for this. I am so sorry.”


	3. Chapter 3

Alastria did not recognize anything around her, most specifically the face in the mirror before her. She felt as if she should want her father, in a situation like this. But she could hardly understand what was going on, much less figure out what she should think about it. She remembered the confusion in the desert as if it had been a dream, and she had woken up in a rather comfortable bed in a strange, unfamiliar room. 

Being alone in this room did not bother her; she was so used to being on her own. But the unfamiliarity unsettled her, and she found herself rather frightened, even though there was nothing overtly threatening in the room. She eased herself out of bed, exploring the room. She found she was wearing a floral nightgown that she most _definitely_  did not own before, and there was an odd series of pinpricks on the inside of her arm, as if from needles.

The face in the mirror was the strangest thing of all. She had been so used to her curly black hair and rough tan skin, and now her hair was golden and straight, and her skin pale and soft. Alastria mourned the lack of calluses and tough skin; it had taken her ages to get her skin tough enough to walk the desert barefoot. Now she looked like some dainty princess. Despite her fear and nervousness, she found she had enough calmness in her to be disgusted at what she had turned into. Before she could think anymore on it, however, the mirror suddenly flashed to life, and she stumbled backward. It was not a mirror; it seemed to be a screen.

“At attention, please.” A stern looking woman materialized on the screen, and Alastria stared at her, not exactly what she wanted. She stood up straight, hoping that would do. The woman was in fancy robes, the likes of which Alastria had only seen in her mind, when Iamon had told her tales of Time Lords. The woman scrutinized her.

“Be dressed in ten microspans. You will be collected for training at that time.” The woman gave her a curt nod, and the screen flickered back into a mirror. Alastria blinked, saying nothing in return. She silently went to get dressed, still pondering over the incredible strangeness of this. A very small part of her wanted to scream for her father, for someone to rescue her. But she stamped it out. Somewhere in her mind, it seemed that part of her thought her father was the cause of this, and that he wouldn’t be any help at all, if he was to come here.

The door opened just as she changed into the robes that had been left for her. Alastria hated the robes immediately upon wearing them; they were so bulky and awkward, and certainly did not allow for quick movement. She longed for her desert clothes, but said nothing as the orderly guided her along the hallway. Finally, she spoke, choosing only to speak when it was important.

“Where am I?” She looked up at the orderly, who seemed startled that she had spoken. The orderly gave her an incredibly disdainful look.

“On _Gallifrey_. In the Citadel of the Time Lords. Where else?”

Alastria decided not to point out that there were other places besides the goddamned citadel on Gallifrey. She followed meekly along like a cat, nodding, but saying nothing. The orderly dropped her off outside an office, ordered her to sit and wait, and she was soon greeted by an older man, wearing the same traditional Time Lord attire. Alastria blinked and watched him passively, observing the rooms for an escape route if she needed one. The older man led her inside the office, and they both sat down. Alastria kept quiet.

“My name is Telathurion. I am the president of Intraspecies Affairs on Gallifrey, and I specialize in anomalies such as yourself. We have taken you into our care, for we wish to learn more about you. You are a natural Time Lady, Alastria. And that is one of the rarest things we have ever seen.” The man was roundish, with grey thinning hair, but his eyes were dark and piercing, and Alastria felt rather disarmed. She realized what he was saying after a moment, and she couldn’t quite wrap her brain around it. She knew her father gave lives to Time Lords, but to be born with them? Perhaps the effects of the machine rubbed off on her. Telathurion noticed she was saying nothing, and continued.

“We will raise you as a proper Time Lady and educate you as we see fit. It would have been a pity to leave you in such a rural environ - “

“Where’s my father?” The words came out of Alastria’s mouth before she could stop them. She always had had trouble figuring out the right things to say and when to say them. People were not one of her strong suits. Telathurion raised an eyebrow.

“Interruption is very rude, desert girl. You would do well to avoid it in the future. And your father is where he should be.” Telathurion said nothing more about it, and began leafing through papers.

“May I see my father, please?” Alastria met his eyes, and now it was Telathurion who seemed unsettled. The man shook his head.

“You are in our care now. Your father knows this, and perhaps he will come visit, if properly motivated. But we are your caretakers now. You are ours,” Telathurion said coldly, and Alastria fell silent again. Her efforts to search for escape routes doubled. Telathurion glared at her.

“Stop acting as if you are a prey animal. You will act like a dignified Time Lady. It is in your blood, whether you like it or not.” Telathurion stood up, and Alastria felt like the little girl she really was again. She nodded faintly, looking up at him. She followed him around the rest of the day as he guided her around the buildings, and she burned the map into her brain. She didn’t understand how she could be a Time Lady. She didn’t feel like one, certainly. But if they said so, she supposed she was…and they had yet to explain why she had changed appearance, and why that fire had happened.

The only time her attention was diverted from mapping the place was when they passed the aviary. Telathurion mentioned it only in passing, but Alastria stopped to look, pressing her face against the bars. It was a relief to see something familiar - birds. She stood there and took them all in for a while, only leaving them when Telathurion dragged her away by the scruff. She burned the memory of them into her brain, however, and made a mental note to go to the aviary in her free time.

“Those are pets. They aren’t important. They’re only ornamental.” Telathurion whisked her along, but Alastria kept looking backward. “If you do well on your studies, perhaps you will be allowed to see them again.”

Alastria didn’t give a whit about her studies. She would see the birds again anyway. It was easy enough to sneak out of her room; she had done it before in the desert. She allowed herself to smile, just a little, but only for herself and the birds.


	4. Chapter 4

Living at the Academy wasn’t especially horrible. Alastria had been afraid at first, constantly obeying all the rules, making sure she stayed in line. She soon realized, however, that learning to be a Time Lord was one of the most boring things in the entire universe. She found that she did not have a knack for the more cerebral aspects of a Time Lord education, or at least the ones that involved long periods of pondering or scribbling on paper. Alastria longed to be able to fly a TARDIS, for she was much better at anything involving her hands, and she was determined to prove that she was competent.

All in all, Alastria was bored. The Academy had lost its intimidating factor, and even Telathurion had softened up and had become Alastria’s mentor of sorts. She hardly remembered her father, or the rest of her family, and she wondered if they had even existed at all. All that seemed to occupy her mind now were the birds and the longing for a TARDIS.

The most exciting things that had happened throughout her years at the Academy numbered only up to two. She had trained some of the birds in the aviary to nick things from the kitchen for her, and had nearly gotten caught. Luckily, no one had found out, and she now used them as a message system to the few friends she had at the Academy. The other exciting thing was when she looked into the Untempered Schism, but that had been so terribly long ago. She remembered that it had hurt terribly, and that something had changed in her mind, but she did not remember much else about it. So she stuck to her routines, waiting out the long Academy years by spending as much time with the birds as she could. 

Finally, the time came when students in her year started to receive their TARDISes. Alastria watched and waited, knowing that her time would come after them, since she was one of the youngest in her year. However, every time she asked, she was steered away from the idea, as if the people who ran the Academy wanted to keep her there. She didn’t think she could stand another year at the wretched place, watching her classmates go off and travel. 

“You are not ready for a TARDIS,” Telathurion said for the umpteenth time, looking tired. It had gotten to the point to where Alastria had even lost her patience with him, and he had grown to be a father figure for her.

“And this is according to a bunch of stuck-up old idiots on the High Council, isn’t it - “

“Alastria! You are being incredibly disrespectful!”

Alastria bit her lip and nodded. “…sorry.” Her mind was elsewhere, though, pondering. “I’ll be patient. I’ll wait.” Telathurion gave her an approving nod, and it seemed as if she had gotten off the hook.

“I think I’m going to take a walk, and then go to bed.” Alastria gave him a swift hug, surprising the other Time Lord enough that he did not protest or ask her why or where she was going. If all went well, Alastria would be leaving for good. She had been struck with a sudden idea, and she wanted to carry it out before her courage failed. 

The Time Lords kept the TARDISes under relatively high security in a large holding room, but those were only the current models. Alastria had heard of a boy called Theta Sigma who had managed to steal an ancient Type 40, simply because it wasn’t guarded. He had been at the Academy a generation before her, but she figured the principle still applied. There were no more Type 40s, but there were certainly type 50s, which were museum pieces by this point. As long as it worked, she did not care.

Alastria had looked up the records of his crime a while back, curious about how he had managed to do it. She had found out that the Time Lords had a TARDIS junkyard of sorts, or at least somewhere where they parked expired models. She only hoped they hadn’t learned from Theta Sigma’s actions and tightened the security. 

Alastria wandered out of the Academy building and across the grounds until she found the place, looking around for any signs of life. If there was one thing the birds had taught her, it was how to move quietly. And then there it was, looming in front of her. She did not see anyone guarding it, and it certainly looked like a junkyard. It seemed as if they had completely forgotten to tend any of these TARDISes, and were letting them slowly die away. Alastria crept through the junkyard, letting her hands graze over sheet metal and pillars and overgrown plants, reveling in the sensation of just _feeling_ , not having to speak or follow rules or worry about who was in charge. Finally, she found one she particularly liked, and that seemed relatively alive. She crept inside, for it was unlocked, and made a note to make a key later, when she had escaped.

As soon as she made her way through the door, however, the console began to glow in response to her presence, and she stopped to look at it, amazed. She reached a hand out to touch the wall, and it glowed brighter, flickering a bit. This TARDIS was most certainly alive, and she could figure out how to fly it. The light grew brighter and brighter, until she realized it was lighting up the whole junkyard. She quickly shut the door, but it shone through the window, and she realized she had no idea how to operate the chameleon circuit. She heard footsteps and yelling outside of the TARDIS and desperately worked at the controls, trying to make it fly, but it refused to budge.

Someone bashed the door in, and three Time Lord guards barreled in, shouting orders that Alastria barely registered in her haste. Everything seemed wordless now, a blur of sensation and vibrations and panic. She imagined they wanted her to abandon the TARDIS and come with them, but she could hardly hear their words in all the noise. 

“Step away from the console, or we shoot.”

Now that, Alastria heard. She looked briefly at the head guard, and realized that oh, they did have guns. Spectacular. She moved slightly away from them, easing a lever up, hoping it would do something. The TARDIS violently jerked to the side, and she clung to the console, hanging there as the guards tumbled to the other end, near the door. Her blood went cold as she heard the barrage of bullets; the guards had started shooting just as the TARDIS had tipped.

Alastria scrambled upward, but the TARDIS was hanging in the air now, tilted to the side, and she could barely keep her balance. She moved the lever again, pressing a button now, and the TARDIS jerked upward and to the other side, tossing them all about like coins inside a box. She held onto the console for dear life, waiting as the TARDIS stablized itself again. Before she could react, one of the guard began shooting, and she felt a sudden stabbing pain as the bullets went through her, making her vision go white. She let out a shuddering cry and tried to scramble upward, but all she could feel was the horrendous pain, watching her hands begin to turn gold. Her stomach jolted as she realized what was happening, and she tried desperately to stand, clinging to the console. Her hands fumbled for the levers, but she couldn’t reach them.

Finally, she let out a scream as her whole body pitched backward, golden fire blazing forth from her, lighting parts of the TARDIS on fire. The TARDIS pitched and tossed, reacting violently to it, and the guards were holding on for dear life, trying not to fall through the door. One of the guards began talking heatedly to the other, and Alastria vaguely registered that he was pointing at her through her haze. The golden light finally died, and Alastria stumbled forward into the console, knowing that she was alive and that she needed to escape, but not much else.

The TARDIS spun in the air now, and the guards couldn’t hold on any longer. The TARDIS bucked and heaved, pitching them out through the door, and the door closed behind them, the TARDIS spinning away. Alastria gripped the console, not knowing what to do, but knowing that she’d have to land somewhere. Although she had no idea where that would be.

—-

“She’s gone. But we caught her regeneration signature. You aren’t going to believe this.” The only surviving guard staggered toward the High Council, holding up a small screen showing what he had seen. 

“You - You said she was born with it. That was why she was so special.” The guard wheezed, setting down the screen. “…but her regeneration signature comes straight from our technology, just like everyone else.” The High Council pondered this, and then the President spoke.

“Someone stole those lives for her. An utter abomination. She is a living, breathing felony.” 


End file.
